


Quick Draw

by karmascars



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comeplay, M/M, Male Solo, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karmascars/pseuds/karmascars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just needs. Little does he know... Sam does too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quick Draw

****“I’ll go see if they still have it, but I might have to find it again.” Sam chews his lip. “Are you sure --”

“Yeah, Sammy, I’m sure.” Dean tries not to snap. It’s been a hard day for him, in a manner of speaking. So hard he hid some key research while Sam was in the can just so he could get five minutes alone. The last thing he needs is for his brother to pick up on his… distress.

But Sam’s too distracted, muttering about Dewey decimal numbers under his breath. He doesn’t even say anything else to Dean as he throws on a jacket and leaves.

The door swings shut.

The Impala hasn’t been rumbling down the road for a full minute before Dean is throwing open his button, fumbling with his zipper. He can still hear the car down the street, but he can’t --

He just --

And god _damn_ his little brother for being so -- so fucking --

“Good,” Dean gasps, his cock throbbing in his hand. He falls back on to his bed, hips bucking his erection through the tight sheath of his fist. Each thrust is hotter, wetter than the last, his precome and the sheer insanity of his lust slicking the way. He thought he could handle it. He’s not a teenager anymore; he should be able to muster some self control. And he’s handled it so well for so long, he thought for sure --

But he was fooling himself.

Dean whines, wriggling back against the blankets. Heat prickles all over his skin.

“I’m a fuckin’ idiot,” he moans.

He can’t keep it together, he can’t stop tossing his head against his pillow and stifling his moans with the back of his hand even though there’s no one else here. He’s already breaking out in a sweat, his shirts too confining. His jeans itch. He wants to be naked, but he can’t risk Sam coming back early. There’d be no way to explain random nudity at 4pm without an empty bottle. And he just doesn’t have the time.

He’s got to come right the fuck now.

“Sam,” he whines. “Sammy, oh my god...” He’s rolling his hips in blood-hot little waves. His palm is rough, he can feel all his calluses digging into the veins standing out on his cock.

 _Ribbed for your pleasure,_ his insensate mind whispers, his lips forming the words in silence.

His eyes have closed.

“Sam--!”

He needs something more. He needs -- Dean kicks his jeans lower around his thighs so he can spread his legs wider. Hitches his hand on down below his drawn-up balls and right where he needs the rough pad of his finger most. The dry catch makes him hiss; imagining it’s Sam’s tongue makes him whimper. His eyes roll back.

And Dean dips his fingertip inside.

The nerves at his entrance flare, tingles of pleasure-pain clenching him up.

“Yes,” he sighs.

He needs lube but be fucked if he’s moving, so sparing the briefest thought at how nasty he is, Dean pulls that finger up to his mouth. His other hand has an iron grip on the base of his cock. With his eyes closed, he can pretend the finger and lips and wicked tongue are both his and Sam’s at once. It yanks him that much closer to coming.

Making sure to get his finger good and wet is hotter than it should be.

 _Says who?_ Dean chides, moaning his pleasure aloud as his finger slips from between his lips and back down to his ass.

 _Oh,_ yeah _. That’s the way,_  he tells himself, nodding with his jaw slack against his pillow. The finger doesn’t slide in easy but the burn is so, so good. Almost as good as

“Sammy --”

He moves the finger a little. His ass makes empty protests while his legs spread wider, his entire body relaxing and tensing at once. Thumb rolling against his perineum, Dean pulls his finger out again. Brings it to his mouth and swirls his tongue around it.

His musk is Sam’s. It’s disgusting, it’s fucking hot.

“Sam, goddamnit,” Dean grates, trailing spit back down below. His finger slips in past the second knuckle this time. He swears in a slurred rush under his breath, wiggles the finger and slides the hand on his cock up to the head, his calluses wringing it with a gentleness that tingles in the worst, best way.

“Sam,” he whispers.

Wriggles the finger again, faster. His entrance contracts, sharp and sweet, overstimulated.

“Oh, _Sam--!”_

He comes in great hot spurts all up his stomach, his chest, pulse after pulse as he shakes. “Saaam,” he mewls, shivering.

Coming down already.

His hands slow.

The door bangs open, Sam pointing his gun down at Dean before he lowers it, gaping, flushing like a kid at his first striptease.

Dean stares dumbly back.

He’s covered in his own come. Sam obviously heard him. This isn’t going to be one of those times when he can cajole or even threaten Sam into letting it go. He’s going to want to talk.

Dean is fucked.

But Sam is sliding on the safety, and stashing the gun in his jacket pocket --

He takes the jacket off and tosses it on a chair.

His eyes haven’t left Dean -- or more accurately, Dean’s cock, twitching under the weight of that stare.

 _Sammy?_ Dean wants to ask. He can’t make the sound come out. It seems the number of times he’s already said Sam’s name that day was his quota.

Sam’s eyes flicker up to his. Back down to the mess he made. Up, down.

He licks his lips.

“Can I --”

“ _Sam,”_ Dean utters, pure heat, shocked and broken.

His brother is already halfway to the bed. He stalks up onto his knees over Dean with such feral grace that it takes Dean’s breath away. Sam’s eyes are nearly black with lust, not demon blood but dilated pupils and fuck the bad memories, that's fucking _hot._

Dean gets a glimpse of the monster tenting his brother’s pants just before Sam dives in and licks a firm swath of cooling come right off Dean’s belly. Sam’s eyes flicker closed, a little wanton rumble brewing deep in his throat.

And he goes back for more.

By the time he’s cleaned up the entire mess, Dean is harder than he’s ever been. He can’t believe this is actually happening. When he’s got a synapse to spare he considers _spell, potion, djinn, Heaven._

He may gasp, “Did I _die?”_ when Sam licks down to his cock and swallows all eight inches whole in one fluid, devastating motion.

Sam hums around his mouthful. Dean can’t breathe. His brother’s _mouth,_ hungry and soft and wet and so fucking hot around Dean’s cock. Sam moans and the sound travels up Dean’s spine, through all his skin, and shoots him in the heart.

Dean’s head flops back on the pillow, tosses against the cotton, his whole body contorting with pleasure.

His hands find Sam’s hair, fist in it and pull.

Sam lets out a strangled cry around Dean’s cock, his lips trembling as they suckle the base. He’s leaning into the grip on his hair and pulling harder all at once. A few more shaking swipes of his tongue around Dean's entire shaft before he backs all the way off with a luscious wet pop. Dean’s knuckles creak when he belatedly lets go, a few silken strands floating loose.

“Fuck me,” Sam gasps.

“W-what?”

“Fuck me. You wanna, right? You do, I heard you, you -- _Dean,”_ he says in a rush, an arm across Dean’s pelvis, butting his head against Dean’s palm. “I think we both need it.”

Dean’s mouth opens and shuts a few times. No words come out. There are no words for this. He finally has to just whine through his teeth when his cock twitches, brushing against cotton and a firm, developed chest. Sam’s heat bleeds through all layers right to Dean’s soul.

He tries again. “Oh, yeah.”

And Sam brightens up like it’s Christmas morning in a house where there’s a real tree and presents. “Yeah?”

Dean grinds his cock harder against his brother’s chest. “Whaddaya think this is for, putt-putt golf?”

“Well, it would be a hole in one --”

Sam is still laughing when Dean manages to shove him bodily right off the bed. Then dives after him, clothes in binding disarray, ass in the air, aiming for his brother's ticklish spots. Sam doesn't stand a chance. He doubles up when Dean's fingers find his armpits, cackling madly. He almost doesn't notice Dean's other hand tracking down to his fly.

That is, until Dean pops the button one-handed.

"How do you do that?" he asks, breathless. "These are tough to get with _both_ hands."

"Trade secret, Sammy." Dean slides the zipper down and gets Sam's cock in his hand before Sam can answer. Any words die in Sam's throat and come out a groan. God, he's huge, he's burning up, and Dean jacks him rough a few times just to watch him squirm. Hear him moan.

The way his face tenses up against the onslaught... God, he's fucking beautiful.

"Beautiful baby boy," Dean murmurs, hitching up on his knees so he can wriggle on down.

"Dean --"

"Fuckin' _beautiful."_

That cock sliding past his lips, forcing his jaw open til it locks, the taste of Sam's precome on his tongue; these are things Dean has dreamed about but never let himself consider actually having. He slides his tongue around the thick shaft, the spongey head just to hear the noises Sam makes. To feel Sam lock up beneath him.

Why have they been horsin’ around when they could have had this all along? Dean doesn't know, but as he wrings more salty drops from Sam's slit he vows to hold as tight as he can and make up for all that lost time.

Grabbing at Sam's waistband, he yanks the jeans further down Sam's hips, letting his throat work around Sam's cock as he jolts. Dean leaves his brother's legs trapped at mid-thigh. That's plenty of naked space for now. Plenty of room for Dean to pull off, fold Sam's legs back and dive down to where Sam is hottest. His little furl clenches at the touch of Dean's tongue.

Sam squirms, mewling pure need. Dean's gonna give him what he needs, oh yeah. He's waited long enough to jab at that hole til it opens for him, wriggling his tongue inside, reveling in each new noise raining down from above him. Sam works his hips down on Dean's face with abandon. He wants to get closer.

Pressing in, in, Dean smashes his face in as far as he can to get in that much deeper. His tongue works over the plush inside, every bit he can taste, even when his mouth starts to ache.

Sam’s wounded howls are worth every second without air.

"Dean," Sam moans at him, "Dean, please, I can't --" He fucks down hard on Dean's tongue, just panting, losing his words to the heat of it. "Dean!"

"Mm hmm," Dean hums into him, pulling back to lap at the sensitive entrance. It flutters with every lick.

"Dean!"

"Hmm, yeah?"

"Oh! Oh, god -- _Dean!"_

Sam arches against the ground, coming so hard that Dean hears it hit his clothes, all of him locking up. His legs slam down. His hole traps Dean's tongue. Dean licks and licks any way he can, stringing it out until Sam starts laughing.

Hands shove at his shoulders, the top of his head from the other side of Sam's bunched jeans. "Quit, you -- Fuck! Ahaha. Too much!”

With a chuckle designed to make his brother squirm just that little bit more, Dean pulls off and up. He makes sure to eye Sam with plenty of heat as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

Sam is flushed, loose and grinning. His legs flop to the side, on to Dean's taut thigh, and he throws his head back with a satisfied shiver.

Still grinning, Dean finds his cock with one hand, rearing back just a little. With his brother watching, he strokes, twists at the head. Tries every trick, even though it won’t be difficult to wring this one out despite having come once already. Because Sam knows what he’s doing. There’s a hint of canine peeking over Sam’s lip, his eyes fixed hungrily on the purpling head peeking out of Dean’s fist. Anticipation is writ all over him. Desire.

It’s electric.

Dean can’t last, he can’t --

“Aaaggh,” he moans, letting loose in hot pulses all over Sam, mixing in with Sam’s own come, a droplet or two reaching Sam’s face. Sam gasps when they land. He looks like he can’t believe they just did this but he loves it.

That’s good enough for Dean, who grunts out the last of his orgasm and sags.

Both of them breathing hard, they bask in the afterglow. The moment stretches forever, just the two of them, sticky and sated and staring.

“Dean…”

“Hmm?”

Sam’s mouth twitches like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Did you send me to the library _just_ so you could jack off?”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This came outta nowhere! Pun... ish intended. *eyebrow waggle* 
> 
> Thanks for reading. If it wouldn't bother you too much to leave kudos and/or a comment, I'd appreciate them greatly.
> 
> For those wondering what's up with my unfinished series/works, check out [this page](http://my-wayward-karma.tumblr.com/fic-status). Also feel free to follow me on Tumblr. (And if you're a Destiel/multishipper follow [intotheruins](http://intotheruins.tumblr.com) too, cos Dale is awesome.)


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